


Too Close For Comfort

by megzseattle



Series: The Serpent and The Seagull [14]
Category: Good Omens (TV)
Genre: Body Swap, Fluff and Humor, Ineffable Husbands (Good Omens), M/M, discorporation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-25
Updated: 2020-05-01
Packaged: 2021-03-02 03:08:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 8,437
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23844247
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/megzseattle/pseuds/megzseattle
Summary: Image bygoodomensficrecommendationson tumblrAziraphale is accidentally discorporated, and Crowley lets him have squatters rights in his corporation until they figure something out. Turns out being roommates in the same building is a lot easier than being roommates in the same body.
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Series: The Serpent and The Seagull [14]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1412167
Comments: 89
Kudos: 200





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Zeckarin](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Zeckarin/gifts).



> This is a bit of fluff and nonsense inspired by a tumblr post I saw the other day. (Click here to see the [original inspiration.](https://generalgrievousdatingsim.tumblr.com/post/190794245563/fights-the-demon-living-in-my-body-over-whose)) 
> 
> And it seemed like high time I revisited the boys and Frederick to see what they are up to. Note that this story is set a bit earlier in the series, before they were married, most likely in between Changes and London Calling. I apologize for being away from them for so long -- I got distracted by writing an 18 chapter Fae AU, which is now completely finished. (Want to read it? Click [here for Faeted ](https://archiveofourown.org/works/22931098).) So now back to my first love. :)

It had been a perfectly ordinary Tuesday morning, Crowley thought. He’d slept in quite late, misted and shouted at the plants, and made and downed a total of seven espressos with his nifty new kitchen toy, a shiny espresso maker that somehow never needed to be plugged in or washed. He was just downing the seventh one, standing up at the kitchen counter in the way of true Italians, when there was a sudden shimmer in the air behind him and everything went haywire.

“You got DISCORPORATED?” Crowley thundered at the shimmering, misty shape behind him that still somehow managed to retain the distinct appearance of wearing a bowtie. “How in the everliving fuck did you get yourself discorporated??”

The mist that was Aziraphale couldn’t blush, of course, but it nonetheless managed to communicate the sensation that it was blushing. “I stepped in front of a bus.”

“You stepped in front of a bus,” Crowley repeated, deadpan. “And why was that?”

“Well obviously because I was distracted!”

“You were distracted!” Crowley scrubbed a hand over his face and hair, messing it up wildly. “Oh, fine, you were DISTRACTED. There’s just the small problem with the fact that Heaven isn’t likely to give you another body, you realize. They’re not particularly cooperative about these things now that we’re on our own side!”

Mist-Aziraphale made a shushing gesture and Crowley, never having been shushed by a noncorporeal being before, found himself quieting down just at the novelty of it.

“I know, my dear, I know,” Aziraphale said. “But I have a plan. Just calm down and listen to me for a moment, please? You can yell at me later.”

“Oh I WILL,” Crowley threatened, looking grim. He plopped down on a kitchen stool and folded his arms over his chest. “Start talking.”

\--

“I don’t know whether that plan is brilliant or stupid,” Crowley groused.

“In that case,” the mist said primly, “let’s go with brilliant. It will work, Crowley, I know it will.”

Crowley frowned and considered making himself an eighth espresso just to gain some thinking time, but he discarded the notion. His nerves were on edge enough.

“So you want to merge with me,” he said. “Angel and demonic in one corporeal shell. How do you know we won’t both explode? We couldn’t do it the last time you were floating around like this.”

“Well yes,” said the mist, “but we weren’t _together_ back then. I think it’s safe to say that we have both gotten our corporeal selves much more used to each other’s essences now. I don’t think my presence will harm you at all. And if it seems to, I will back out quick as a snap. No harm done.”

“It’s not like you have much of another option, I suppose,” Crowley said, resigned to his fate. “All right, let’s give it a try.”

He braced himself on the kitchen counter and waited. And waited. And waited.

“Anytime now, angel,” he snipped, looking up. “What’s the hold up?”

“Oh,” dithered the misty shape. “I just feel… like I’m imposing on you. Are you sure you’re ready?”

Crowley rolled his eyes, hard. “Just get on with it.”

Mist-Aziraphale took a deep breath, managed to somehow look apologetic, and flowed into him.

No one combusted.

It was, Crowley thought, a positive sign.

\--

It was an unusual thing to be inhabiting a body with one’s boyfriend, thought Aziraphale. He had thought that he knew every inch of Crowley’s body rather intimately at this point, after over a year of dating and even once swapping bodies completely, but he found it was rather a different thing to be locked inside someone’s body while they were still in it. He found himself feeling unexpectedly shy, and rather unsure of the etiquette of the whole thing.

For example, when one wanted to take a turn using the vocal cords, did one just – do so? Or did one clear their throat politely first?

He decided to try the throat clearing trick. “Ahem,” he said politely. Crowley instinctively fought the sensation at first, then relaxed when he realized it was Aziraphale trying to speak. “I wonder, might we make a cup of tea? It’s rather… jittery in here.”

“Sure, angel, whatever you want.” Crowley headed for the kitchen and began filling a kettle.

“Ahem,” the other voice inside him said again. “Would you mind terribly if – that is to say – oh dear, this is complicated to manuever…”

Crowley turned off the water and put the kettle down. “ _You_ want to make the tea, don’t you.”

“Well, I do make it better than you do,” Aziraphale said politely. “Could I perhaps drive the body for just a moment?”

Crowley sighed and did his best to relax. “I suppose?”

Aziraphale manuevered around and happily took over the demon’s brainstem to control his physical movements; there were an uncomfortable few moments not unlike when you are changing gears in a strange car for the first time, but then everything proceeded smoothly as Crowley sat back inside his own head and watched Aziraphale put together the tea in the same fussy way he always did.

When the water had boiled and the bone china cup had been appropriately warmed before being filled with just the right amount of tea with just the appropriate dash of sugar and a saucer had been found and both had been carried to the living room and the angel-driving-the-demon had finally been seated and taken his first indulgent sip and let out a contented sigh, Crowley finally nudged at him to relinquish control of the steering wheel, so to speak, which the angel did immediately.

“Great,” Crowley said, back in control of the vocal cords. “Let’s move this into the office – I need to get on the computer.” Without waiting for Aziraphale to agree, he picked up the cup and saucer and sauntered them both into the other room, where he sprawled down in the chair and opened his laptop.

“Crowley,” Aziraphale complained, “I wanted to actually drink the tea.”

Crowley sighed and picked up the cup in a rather big hurry and took a huge gulp.

“That’s hardly the way to enjoy it, my dear,” Aziraphale said.

“Is that a pout?” Crowley said. “I absolutely refuse to let you make me pout, angel.”

He felt the angel sigh and release his control over the mouth muscles. “Very well,” he said primly. “Just give me a drink every now and then while you’re using the arms, ok?”

“They’re not ‘the’ arms,” Crowley reminded him, “they’re ‘my’ arms. And you are a guest in there.”

“I’m well aware, dearest,” Aziraphale said, sounding a little hurt.

Crowley stuffed down a vague sensation of guilt, which he was oddly aware that Aziraphale was well aware of, since they were sharing a brain, and got to work pulling up his infernal email account.

“Let’s get moving on this,” he muttered. “Time to contact the powers that be.”

\--

“I can hear you thinking,” Crowley said as he worked on writing his most threatening email to Michael, the archangel who had already demonstrated a slight moral ambiguity and willingness to play by slightly more shaded rules than the others.

“It’s just that you’re being so rude,” Aziraphale said. “Also you misspelled ‘wanker’ in line seven.”

“I’m being rude on purpose,” Crowley said, “it’s a threatening email.”

“Nonetheless, manners are important,” Aziraphale prodded.

“So, you’d like me to write a _polite_ threatening letter.”

“It can certainly be done,” Aziraphale said. “If you’ll just give me control of the arms for a moment, I can make a few edits for you –”

Crowley shut the laptop lid. “Forget it. I’ll call her instead.”

“Oh well now, that’s a very good idea.”

\--

“Michael!” Crowley said jovially. “How’s tricks?”

“Demon Crowley,” Michael said coolly. “To what do I owe the displeasure?”

“Need to talk with you,” Crowley said. “You see, Aziraphale’s been discorporated, and you’re going to help us out with getting him another body.”

“And why on earth would I do that?” Michael asked. “I can’t think of anything that would possibly entice me to get that traitor another body.”

“Well you see,” Crowley said, “Aziraphale has set up shop inside my corporation for the moment.”

Crowley could almost hear Michael wrinkling her nose in distaste. “That sounds unpleasant, but is hardly my concern –”

“No,” Crowley cut in. “It’s quite largely your concern. Because I now have all of the powers of Hell at my disposal, plus all of Aziraphale’s grace. Imagine what I could do with that combination?”

Michael thought for a moment. “That’s preposterous. Such a thing isn’t even possible. Your base matter is incompatible.”

Crowley gave in to the incessant nudging and allowed Aziraphale to take over the vocal cords. “Was incompatible,” Aziraphale said. On screen, Michael blinked as Aziraphale’s voice somehow began emerging from Crowley’s mouth. “We have mingled our essences enough times prior to this, however, that this is no longer the case.”

“I really don’t need to be privy to that type of information,” Michael sighed.

“And you know,” Aziraphale continued, “I can’t really do anything to stop Crowley while he’s –” he stopped and grasped for the right word – “hosting me. I can take control for short periods of time but only if he allows it. And he’s quite right that he has access to all of my powers. And all of my knowledge of heavenly infrastructure. Battle plans and whatnot.”

Michael’s eyes glittered. “You wouldn’t dare let him have full access to your memory banks.”

Crowley nudged Aziraphale and took back control. “He certainly would,” he said, “and even if he didn’t want to, he couldn’t stop me.” He waited while Aziraphale quietly fed him a few alarming bits of information. “Taking a look around right now,” he said airily. “You have exactly 124 battle regiments at present, armed with – what is that Aziraphale? Oh, stop fighting me, you idiot. I’m going to see it anyways – armed with a combination of light and heavy –”

“All right, all right,” Michael shouted, leaning forward anxiously. “What is it you want me to do?”

“You’re going to steal us a corporation,” Crowley said. “The same corporation he’s had, I know you have extras. And you’re going to deliver it to the bookshop.”

“That will take some time,” Michael muttered.

“How long?”

“Forty-eight hours.”

“Fine.” Crowley gave a smile that did not reach his eyes. “Nice doing business with you, Michael.”

\--

“Oh, can I drive?” Aziraphale asked as they settled into the driver’s seat of the Bentley.

“Can you –” Crowley sputtered. “Absolutely not! And if you so much as touch a single neuron while I’m driving us over to the bookshop I will wait until you’ve got a body again and then kick your ass. Is that clear?”

“Crystal,” sniffed Aziraphale.

\--

Crowley swung into the bookstore and headed directly for the liquor cabinet.

“I didn’t mean to,” Aziraphale said. “It was just – you almost hit that old woman and her cart!”

“Not my fault she’s out there taking terrible risks, is it?” Crowley said, uncorking a bottle of gin and taking a long swallow.

Aziraphale spluttered. “Oh, must you, my dear? You know I dislike the taste of gin.”

“My tastebuds, my rules,” Crowley said.

On the desk to their left, Frederick awoke from that deep stillness that meant sleep and examined his pointy friend.

WHERE HAVE YOU BEEN? I’VE BEEN HUNGRY FOR DAYS!

It had been six hours at most. Crowley huffed and went to the freezer for a mousicle. He took one out, popped it in the microwave to thaw, and turned his focus back inward.

“Anyway,” he said. “Don’t change the subject. You took control of the wheel and nearly wrecked us.”

“What was I supposed to do, close my eyes? That would have wrecked us too, since they’re your eyelids.”

“I don’t know,” Crowley sputtered. “just mentally read a book or something.”

“I will try that next time,” Aziraphale said consolingly.

The microwave dinged and Crowley made a disgusted face. “You feed him, angel,” he said.

Aziraphale, feeling agreeable, quickly popped the mouse into Freddy’s cage. “There you are, dear friend,” he said. “So sorry about the wait.”

Frederick reared up his head and examined Crowley closely.

WHY DO YOU SOUND LIKE THE FLUFFY ONE? he shouted.

Crowley took back control. “It’s a long story,” he said. “Suffice it to say that Aziraphale is in here with me for the moment.”

SOUNDS CROWDED, Frederick said doubtfully. DON’T GET ANY BIG IDEAS ABOUT PUTTING ME IN THERE TOO. YOU MIGHT HAVE EATEN YOUR FRIEND, BUT THAT’S ALL YOU GET.

“I didn’t _eat_ him!” Crowley insisted.

LOOKS THAT WAY FROM HERE, SNAKEBIRD.

Crowley sighed and headed for the bottle of gin again.

It was going to be, they both thought in near unison, a long two days.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The body-sharing duo attempt to take a nap, and eat out at a restaurant as they count down the next 48 hours.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hahaha, so much for two chapters. None of you should be surprised. But I do intend to keep this short and sweet. 
> 
> Frederick will be back in the next chapter, promise! He's mentioned here but gets no speaking time.

Chapter 2

46 hours

“I need a nap, angel,” Crowley said. “Think you can let me sleep for a bit?”

“Of course, dear,” Aziraphale said. “Do you want to just turn the body over to me for a while then?”

Crowley blinked, then wondered why he was bothering to make facial expressions to a conversational partner viewing him from the _inside_. This whole experience was so confusing.

“No,” he finally said. “I don’t want to ‘turn the body over to you’. I want to lie down and sleep. With my body.”

Aziraphale communicated a very faint sense of frowning. “But what am I supposed to do while you do that?”

“Sleep, perhaps?”

There was a long internal silence. Then finally, begrudgingly, “I suppose, I can try that. Doubt it will work, though.”

Crowley humphed. If there was one thing he was good at, it was napping. He set about making himself a nice nest of blankets and throw pillows on the beat-up old couch in Aziraphale’s office and then threw himself haphazardly in the middle of it. He tossed and turned through a few positions before finally finding one adequately comfortable. He nestled down, tore off his dark glasses and dropped them somewhere on the floor behind him, and let out a long exhale.

Perfect, he thought. With how easily sleep came to him, he should be under in just about three… two…

“Are you HUMMING?” he asked.

“Oh!” Aziraphale said, sounding startled. “You can hear that?”

“Yes, I can hear that,” Crowley breathed, “you are literally inside my head.”

“Could we at least put on some music? Maybe some nice Schubert or something? It’s quite boring, just sitting here inside your head while you sleep.”

“It’s been all of thirty seconds,” Crowley pointed out. “You can’t be bored already.” But he did snap his fingers and the appropriate record began playing on the gramophone. He miracled it to last for a whole two hours, which he thought would be a passable length of time for a good nap.

“Oh, thank you, love,” Aziraphale said. “Ok, I’m going to be quiet as a mouse now.”

“Thank you,” Crowley said, reburying himself in the pillows.

“Not a peep.”

“Angel!” Crowley groused.

He couldn’t quite be sure, but he felt the faintest sensation of a giggle from somewhere inside.

\--

44 hours

Crowley was pleased to wake up two hours later in the same spot, seemingly undisturbed. He yawned and indulged in a luxurious stretch before sitting up and digging around on the floor to find his glasses. He glanced around the shop and noted that everything appeared exactly the same as before the nap.

“Aziraphale?” he said. “You in there?”

“Oh? Oh yes!” Aziraphale piped up. “I’m here. You’re awake, then?”

“I am!” Crowley said, with a genuine smile. “Thank you for letting me sleep!”

“You’re very welcome,” Aziraphale said fondly. “You look very sweet when you’re napping. And I must admit it’s rather relaxing, being in your corporation while you sleep. I don’t think my body ever achieves quite that level of … sloth.”

Crowley made a noncommittal noise. The angel had a point. He was good at sloth. “You keep being this agreeable and I might even agree to read a book later.”

“Ooo!” the angel cooed in delight. “Any book I want?”

“Possibly,” the demon smiled. “How about we have a little drink? Fancy some scotch?”

“That sounds lovely.”

This wasn’t so bad, they both thought in unison.

\--

40 hours

“I’m actually a tad peckish,” Aziraphale said.

“How can you be peckish when you don’t actually have a stomach right now?” Crowley asked.

“My ethereal stomach is peckish.”

“Is that so.”

“Crowley,” Aziraphale said pointedly. “I cooperated while you napped…”

That was true, Crowley thought. Sometimes it just wasn’t worth fighting the battle. “All right, all right,” he said. “Should I whip us up a little snack?”

“Hrm,” Aziraphale said. “I was really thinking more about going out. I have a craving for sushi.”

His discorporated boyfriend had a craving. Of course. “You want to go to a restaurant like this?”

“I don’t see why not. You’re quite comfortable dining alone, aren’t you?”

“Well yes,” Crowley said. “But it’s Saturday night, and that sushi place you like is quite the hotspot on the weekends… practically a meat market.”

Aziraphale scoffed. “We will be quite fine, my dear. Consider it… consider it a date!” he said brightly. “You do enjoy taking me out for a fine meal, don’t you?”

Crowley smiled fondly and went to grab his coat. “All right, all right,” he said. “Never let it be said that I don’t indulge you from time to time.”

\--

38.5 hours

It took some time to get seated, but being a regular had its advantages – despite dining alone, Crowley was able to finesse his way into one of the prime tables at the sushi restaurant, right in the front window, where they could observe everything, outside and in.

Aziraphale carefully negotiated one of Crowley’s hands across the menu, tapping on each item to let him know what he wanted to order, and soon a lovely and surprisingly large platter of nigiri was laid in front of them, along with a large portion of warm saké for them both to drink.

“Angel,” Crowley said quietly, helping himself to a small cup of the saké and enjoying the warmth it spread through his chest, “I’m not sure I can eat all of this.”

“Oh, I know, my dear, but at least we can sample bits of it all,” Aziraphale replied quietly. No need to speak loudly in two different voices in a public restaurant and convince the staff that Crowley was mentally ill. He did, after all, want to come back here. This place was his favorite.

“Where should we start?” Crowley said, generously giving Aziraphale full control of both arms for the moment. Aziraphale hummed contentedly and tucked his napkin in his lap with a flourish, tested out his chopsticks, and set about choosing the perfect piece of salmon and dipping it lightly in the soy sauce before placing it on his – their – tongue.

Aziraphale couldn’t stop himself from letting out a happy moan. A waitress passing by smiled at Crowley. “Everything good, sir?”

“Very good,” Crowley said, keeping firm control of the vocal cords. “Thank you!”

“Sushi tastes different with your taste buds,” Aziraphale whispered. “How fascinating! It’s not quite as distinct as with my own, can’t pick out each of the individual components and sensations as well as I’m used to. Of course, I do have quite a refined palate, so…”

“Angel,” Crowley said, “you’re making me look crazy, talking to myself.” He pulled out his mobile and laid it on the table so at least, if questioned, he could pretend he was talking to someone on a call.

“Sorry. Let’s have some uni, shall we?” Aziraphale said, happily flourishing the chopsticks again.

They happily made their way through at least a portion of the tasty items on the platter, murmuring quietly to each other, until Crowley found his concentration broken by a shadow falling across the table.

“Here alone?” a pleasant voice asked.

Crowley looked up and found a man standing there who was emphatically not a member of the waitstaff. He was in his late twenties, slim and wiry, and had, of all things, a goatee. Were goatees still a thing? Crowley wondered. He was dressed simply but showily in tight fitting jeans and a v-neck tee, and was, Crowley had to admit, fairly attractive in that lanky way the young had. He was carrying a bottle of something and his own small cup.

“Oh,” Crowley said, “well yes, but..”

The young man plopped himself down in the seat across from him. “I was just having a drink at the bar over there and couldn’t help but notice that you seemed to be really enjoying your food. Unusual to see someone smile so much while they eat alone.”

“Alone being the functional word, there, actually,” Crowley pointed out. “Bug off.”

“Oh now,” the man said. “I was just wondering if you might want to share a drink with me? It’s so old fashioned to send a drink over with the waiter… thought I’d just do it myself.” He held up the bottle. “I brought some to share.”

Aziraphale sensed that brief moment of appreciation that Crowley felt while assessing the man across from him, and he found himself not appreciating either the sentiment or his partner’s taste. Sure, he was young and slim and lanky… but… but… a goatee? And from the inside, it was easy for him to confirm what he had always suspected – that Crowley was secretly flattered anytime anyone hit on him in public. Vanity, he thought, thy name is Anthony J. Crowley.

Crowley, momentarily distracted by Aziraphale beginning to fuss inside him, stared mutely at the man in a way that must have passed for assent, because the man reached over for his empty saké cup and began pouring them each a generous portion.

“Try this,” he said, “it really is the best you can get. Hint of watermelon to it. Absolutely top shelf.”

 _Crowley what on earth are you doing?_ Aziraphale said snippily inside his brain. _Send this idiot away. What is he, nineteen?_

 _I’m not the least bit interested in him,_ Crowley thought back. _And if you weren’t distracting me, he’d already be gone._

 _Likely story,_ Aziraphale sniffed. _I can feel your vanity, demon! I absolutely forbid you to drink that._

This was one hundred percent the wrong thing to say to a demon, and Aziraphale knew it. He just simply was too irritated with the interloper to care.

 _Oh, you forbid me, do you?_ Crowley thought angrily. _You’re being a little heavy handed here, don’t you think?_

Incensed at his passenger, Crowley gave way to an evil impulse and offered the young man an insincere but charming smile as he picked up the small cup and took a sip.

“That’s quite good,” he said, grinning. “What did you say your name was?”

_Crowley!!_

“Tom,” the man said, taking a sip of his own. “And you are?”

Crowley attempted to reach for the cup again and found himself in a struggle for control of his right arm. The ensuing fight left him twitching in a way that must have looked quite strange from across the table. He looked up and found Tom staring at him oddly.

“Name’s Anthony,” he said. Aziraphale shifted his attentions to trying to gain control of the vocal cords, so Crowley took advantage of this loss of focus to get his hand on the cup and bring it up to his mouth. “Come here often?”

Aziraphale, sensing an opportunity, took sudden control of Crowley’s right hand and used it to slowly and dramatically pour the warm saké all over the front of his shirt.

“Oh, for fuck’s sake,” Crowley shouted loudly at himself. “What are you doing?” His grabbed his right hand with his left and slammed it down on the table, where he held it in place and glared at it, hard.

He suddenly realized how quiet the restaurant had become.

He raised his eyes and found both Tom and the patrons around him staring intently at him, eyebrows raised.

“I – I’ll let you get back to it,” Tom said, before scurrying away to the bar. He left the bottle in his hurry.

“Show’s over,” Crowley hissed at the people around him, who returned embarrassedly to their conversations. “Nice,” he whispered to Aziraphale. “Thanks for that. Be prepared to find a new sushi place when you return because we’re not coming back here.”

Aziraphale retaliated by picking up a large piece of nigiri and stuffing it whole in Crowley’s mouth with little warning.

Crowley spat it out, uncaring about who was watching, and quickly peeled a few large bills out of his wallet and threw them on the table before standing up and heading for the door.

Somehow, he mysteriously tripped over nothing on the way out. He recovered himself in just enough time to avoid ending up on the floor.

“Poor man,” he heard one of the patrons say as he walked out. “He’s clearly having an episode.”

\--

Crowley let the door bang shut behind him and headed for the Bentley in quite a lather.

“I am going to sleep for the next thirty-seven hours,” Crowley shouted at no one as he started the engine. “Just see if I don’t!”

“Fine. Maybe I’ll go inhabit Freddy for a while. He’d likely be more civilized than _you_ ,” Aziraphale spat back.

“Oh, BE MY GUEST!” Crowley said. “I won’t stop you. Just let me warn him first how much trouble you can be!”

“I think I am no longer speaking to you,” Aziraphale said primly.

“Well that’s a freaking relief.”

It was a strangely long and utterly silent drive home.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Crowley and Aziraphale patch things up, seal it with a kiss, and get his body back. All in a day's work for the ineffable husbands.

37 hours

Crowley and passenger stalked into the bookshop and plopped down right in front of Freddy’s cage. Freddy eyed him sleepily, confused.

“Hey Freddy,” Crowley snarked. “You want an up-close-and-personal visit with Aziraphale? He’s looking for a new home for a few hours.”

WHAT? IS HE DISAGREEING WITH YOUR STOMACH OR SOMETHING?

“Crowley,” Aziraphale said, “I can’t really merge with Freddy. He’s a… well he’s a snake.”

“So I am!”

“But you’re a celestial being who happens to take snake form. He’s a – “Aziraphale lowered his voice to a dramatic whisper. “He’s a lower life form.”

I HEARD THAT! Frederick shouted. AND IF ANYONE IS A LOWER LIFE FORM HERE, IT’S YOU TWO IDIOTS!

Crowley translated faithfully. “See? Now you’ve upset our pet, too.”

Aziraphale sighed. _Someone_ was determined to be a child about this, and it wasn’t him. “Fine, I’ll tell you what. I’ll ease back out of you and just… hover here in the shop for a few hours. You take a nap all by yourself. Maybe that will soothe your temper.”

Crowley was sorely tempted, but also thought this was probably a poor idea.

“You might… dissipate,” he said nervously. “You’re just a big ball of mist.”

“Well it’s not like it’s windy in here. I’ll – I don’t know, stuff myself in a teapot if it comes to that.”

“It’ll take a pretty big teapot,” Crowley said under his breath.

“Okay a bucket then!” Aziraphale sounded beyond exasperated. “We’re both upset, and we could use a little time to cool down separately. Brace yourself, I’m coming out of you now.”

There was an odd pulling sensation, and then suddenly, there in front of him was ball-of-mist Aziraphale again, shimmering and offering the merest suggestion of a human form. The mist appeared to roll its shoulders in relief, and Crowley tried to hide the fact that for just a second, he felt oddly alone as well as blessedly empty.

“There,” the vapor said. “Now please go sleep for a few hours, and then perhaps we can talk. Just don’t make it the full 37 hours, please, I’m not sure how long I can maintain this form on my own.”

Crowley opened and closed his mouth several times, then gave up. “Fine,” he said, heading for the couch. “I’ll check on you in two hours. Wake me up if you need me before that.”

\--

For lack of anything better to do, Aziraphale ended up floating through the stacks examining the top shelves that he hardly ever looked through. He was delighted to find a half dozen volumes he thought had been lost forever, but which had simply been pushed behind others on those rarely-visited shelves – until he realized that he couldn’t actually retrieve any of them right now, and instead had to make a mental note about where each of them was.

He also was amused to discover one exceedingly small area that appeared to be a secret snake nest, carefully created behind the top shelf of military history books, an area Aziraphale never visited unless he had to. In the space between the back of the books and the back of the shelves, someone had stuffed in a small blanket, carving out a cozy sleeping area that retained the distinct impression of a serpent. Was this Frederick’s fabled secret hiding place, he wondered, or somewhere Crowley liked to run off to when he wanted to be a small snake? He couldn’t be sure, but he suspected it was Crowley. He filed that one away under “adorable” and also “see for future investigation.”

This reminded him, though, of Crowley and the fact that they were now in a fight. He sighed and floated back down to the office area again, where he perched on top of the grandfather clock and observed his partner in silence and thought.

He supposed he had been a bit overreactive. Crowley had been trying to shake the interloper off, after all. And honestly, he knew better than to forbid the demon from doing things; he could only think of a few times he had ever tried that phrase, and each time had been an unmitigated disaster. Crowley reacted about as well to being ordered around as, well, Aziraphale himself did. Oh, it was just so hard to be disembodied and discombobulated and dealing with a flurry of sensations and impressions from someone else’s body! He was overcome with a sense of remorse.

\--

34 hours

Crowley did manage to get to sleep – honestly, almost nothing could prevent him from taking a nap when he meant to. But his dreams were uncomfortable; he dreamed of clouds being torn apart in the breeze, of invisible nets being laid over him, of pieces of himself slipping out through his skin. He finally startled awake after the last of a series of these overcome with the sense that he never ever should have let Aziraphale go floating loose around the shop. Who knows what could have happened!

“Angel!” he shouted, coming up to a seated position and throwing the blankets to the floor. “Aziraphale where are you?”

A cool breeze reached him as the fog that was Aziraphale moved across the room and settled in on the couch next to him.

“I’m right here, love,” Aziraphale said. “Safe and sound, no worries.”

Crowley lowered his glasses and peered at him. “You look – a little fuzzier around the edges.”

“Perhaps a little,” Aziraphale said. “But still intact. We have some time before we’d need to worry about it.”

“Shouldn’t have pushed you out,” Crowley said, shamefaced. “I’m sorry.”

“No,” Aziraphale said, bobbing lightly in the air currents of the room. “I think that was healthy. It’s not easy for two beings to share one body, no matter how close they might be. And you had every right to be upset at me. I’m sorry I dumped sake all over you and embarrassed you in the restaurant.”

Crowley quirked up a corner of his mouth. “You’re quite a bastard when you’re jealous, you know.”

“I am,” Aziraphale admitted. “And you are an incorrigible flirt.”

“I don’t try to be,” Crowley said quietly. “I really was trying to send him away.”

“I know,” Aziraphale said. “I’ll try to be less pushy while we’re sharing.”

“I suppose I could try to be less of an arse,” Crowley added.

“Oh,” Aziraphale fretted. “Now I want to hug you! What an inopportune time to have no arms.”

“I’ve got arms,” Crowley said enticingly. “C’mon in. You can hug me all you want.”

Aziraphale radiated the sensation of a beaming smile as he slid back into Crowley’s corporation. It felt warmer this time, more welcoming.

He silently asked for permission, then moved Crowley’s arms until they were wrapped around his torso and squeezed.

That felt… interesting. Crowley had the sensation of both touching his own self, but also of being touched by someone else. The limbs were familiar, but the movement patterns were sheer Aziraphale. This pricked up all kinds of interesting thoughts in his brain. What could they do to make the time pass in a more entertaining way? There was no way to hide that thought from Aziraphale, so instead he threw caution to the wind and telegraphed the thought as loudly as he could.

He felt Aziraphale ripple inside him in response.

“What lovely ideas you have, my dearest,” the angel said through his vocal cords. “Perhaps we should relocate?”

For once there was no shifting around to allow one of them to make their way up the narrow staircase to the bedroom in front of the other.

This was, all things considered, looking up.

\--

27 hours

Several hours later, they came down to make tea, neither of them quite sure what to say.

“That was… quite interesting,” Aziraphale said.

“Always fun to experiment,” Crowley said, oddly embarrassed to have found himself such a focus of attention. He tended to be more of a giver, he thought, when it came to the pleasures of the flesh. But when you were the only flesh around, well, what could you do?

“I never realized quite how flexible your spine is compared to mine,” Aziraphale said airily, taking easy control of Crowley’s arms to start the tea-making process.

“Angel,” Crowley complained, “do we have to discuss each and every aspect of –”

“Oh no, no,” the angel cut in. “Not at all.” He busied himself for a moment and Crowley relaxed a fraction. Aziraphale finished the tea in record time and carefully placed two cups on the table in front of a single chair. They sat down and took turns stirring their preferred amount of sugar and milk into their own cup.

Crowley let out a deep sigh and took a sip of his drink.

“I just never realized how much fun it was to drive a serpent, before,” Aziraphale added as an afterthought. “And the buttons I could press from the inside – intriguing!”

Crowley choked on the tea he was swallowing, and Aziraphale did his best to pat him on the back with his own arm.

“Can we please stop discussing this?” Crowley pleaded. “I’m a man of action, not words.”

Aziraphale tittered quietly but made a consoling gesture with the demon’s hands and set about picking up his own cup for a sip.

“Your wish is my command,” he said.

\--

18 hours

The rest of the day passed quietly. Crowley brought Frederick out for a long snuggle as he made good on his earlier promise to allow Aziraphale to use his eyes to read any book he wanted. Aziraphale, trying to be a good sport, picked something adventurous and entertaining, with an eye to the demon’s tastes. They soon discovered, though, that with a bit of effort, Aziraphale could read and Crowley could quietly talk to Freddy.

Freddy curled up around Crowley’s arm and tried to soak up some warmth. He looked, Crowley realized, a little worried.

“Are you all right?” he asked.

IS HE DEAD? Freddy shrieked at him. I DON’T UNDERSTAND THIS.

Crowley took a moment to see how much attention the angel was paying to him. He appeared to be deeply concentrating on his reading, in that almost trance-like state he sometimes got into.

“No,” he said quietly, “he’s not dead. He lost his body. He’s getting a new one tomorrow.”

Freddy considered that one for a moment.

HE LOST IT? LIKE HE SHED HIS SKIN AND FORGOT WHERE HE PUT IT?

“Something like that,” Crowley said. “He’s not hurt and he’s just fine, but we have a new – outer skin being delivered for him and until then he needs a physical body to be attached to most of the time so that he doesn’t get into trouble.”

HE’S GOOD AT THAT, Frederick agreed. The fluffy one was lucky to have a really big and relatively intelligent snake to look after him.

Freddy still looked worried.

“Out with it,” Crowley said.

WILL HIS NEW BODY STILL BE FLUFFY?

Crowley laughed gently. “You make fun of him constantly for being fluffy. Call him a big old mouse.”

I KNOW, Frederick said. IT’S JUST HOW I SHOW AFFECTION.

“Yes, his new body will be exactly like his old body,” Crowley reassured him. The snake seemed to feel better hearing this, and he curled up contentedly around Crowley’s arm and went to sleep.

\--

They slept long the next morning, and when they woke up the sun was already high in the sky for the afternoon. Crowley’s phone rang as they were sitting at the desk looking through accounts.

“Michael,” he said as he hung up.

Aziraphale politely pretended he hadn’t been eavesdropping through their shared brains the whole time. "What did she say?"

“We have to go up there, she can’t get the body down to us.”

“How are we going to do that?” Aziraphale worried.

“She’s going to meet us in the street just outside the headquarters building and fill us in. Half an hour,” Crowley said, checking his watch. “Best be going.”

\--

Michael was pacing impatiently outside the building when they got to central London.

“Finally,” she said, tossing a bundle to them. “Put this on.”

“Hello to you too,” Crowley said, catching the fabric and shaking it out. It was a hooded robe, blindingly white. “What in the –”

“It’s a disguise,” she snipped. “I’ve disabled the cameras and some of the sensors that would react to your demonic nature, but we don’t have long. I have to get you into Above, take you to the body storage room, find you a body, get you into it, and get you out all in the next hour. Are you going to stand here and argue with me?”

Aziraphale nudged Crowley out of his slack-jawed stupor, and quietly urged him to cooperate. Crowley turned over motor control to him and Aziraphale quickly arranged the angelic robe around them, pulling the hood down to cover most of his face, and then, after a moment’s consideration, he used a miracle to turn Crowley’s snakeskin boots into something a little less – memorable.

Crowley looked down and groaned at the plain brown oxfords that were on his feet now.

“Thank you, my dear,” Aziraphale said in his own voice, giving Michael a tight smile that was unmistakably his.

Michael stared at them for a few beats. “I will never get used to this,” she muttered. She turned away. “Come with me and don’t speak to anyone. And for heaven’s sake, if you must, leave Aziraphale in control of the body. He at least understands how one is meant to behave in this context.”

Crowley huffed to let them know what he thought about that, but he went along with it. The tosser was probably right.

\--

They wound their way through Heaven’s antechambers and through the bustling great hall where small clumps of angelic beings were clustered working on various tasks, and made their way back through the library and the research area, past troop requisitioning and great spinning globe, to a very distant corner the Aziraphale had never been to before.

She stopped before a guarded door where an angel in full battle kilt was standing at attention, holding a clipboard at his side.

“Hello, Haniel,” Michael said. “I’m here for inventory; you should have received the proper paperwork this morning.”

Haniel brought his clipboard up and checked. “Ah yes,” they said, “all is in order. Will you be needing assistance?”

“No,” Michael said. “And I’ll ward the door so there’s no need to guard it while I’m inside. This is sensitive work and we require absolute privacy.”

Haniel made a note with a flourish and handed the clipboard over to Michael. “Very well. I’ll report back in two hours.”

Michael watched Haniel walk away, then rushed Crowley and Aziraphale inside. Crowley took a moment to take a good look around. They were in an enormous, cavernous room that was dimly lit. Metal tracking ran all across the ceiling in an elliptical shape, looking something like upside-down train tracks, and near the front of the room was a single console with a small tablet-like device on it.

“What _is_ this?” Aziraphale asked.

Michael gave him a superior smile. “It’s the absolute latest in vessel storage and retrieval,” she said. “Absolutely top of the line tech. Care for a demonstration?”

She walked over to the console, turned it on with a wave of her hand. “So, we need one Aziraphale model, is that correct?” she said officiously. She concentrated and typed for a moment, then typed a little more, then frowned and typed a bit further.

“Ah, there it is,” she said. “That model doesn’t get used very often, for, uh, obvious reasons. Took a minute to locate it.”

She pressed a button on the screen with a flourish and stood up with a proud look on her face.

The machinery on the ceiling began to grind and wheeze and a shower of dust fell on them as the whole track began to move. It was, Aziraphale realized, a conveyer belt. Not unlike the kind you see at a dry cleaners, or a meat packing plant. It seemed to work on a similar principle too, as soon several empty angelic bodies began to circulate by at an interminably slow rate of speed.

 _This is rather creepy,_ Crowley whispered in the back of their shared mind. _All these cadavers hanging there like suitcoats._

 _It is most decidedly disturbing,_ Aziraphale agreed.

Michael turned and gave them a benevolent and slightly smug smile. “I don’t suppose Hell has anything like this, do they Crowley?”

Crowley took over the vocal cords. “No,” he said placidly, “they don’t. We just – you know, throw them all in a heap. When you need one, you have to look through the little tags on their wrists until you find the one you want, and tug it out by the arm. Half the time the whole pile falls on you and you have to dig your way out.”

Michael wrinkled her nose in distaste. “How… infernal.”

“Quite.”

The conveyer wheezed to a stop in front of them and Aziraphale looked up to find the unsettling sight of five empty versions of his preferred body hanging in front of him.

“Well don’t just sit there,” Michael said. “Get it down.”

Crowley blinked and walked over to examine the nearest model. He could only reach the vessel’s knees, and he didn’t see any obvious way of unhooking it from the track it was attached to by what looked something like a large hanger. He wrapped his arms around the knees of it and tried lifting it a little, and when that didn’t work, he tried pulling. Finally, he looked over at Michael.

“A little help?”

She smirked, clearly enjoying his ineptitude, and then waved a hand at the ceiling and the chosen model was released and slowly lowered to the floor.

It stood there, facing them, dressed in a generic white robe that covered the body from neck to knees, a perfect replica of Aziraphale as he was when Crowley had first met him when he was guarding the eastern gate of Eden – except for the lifeless, dead eyes that stared straight ahead, seeing nothing.

They all stared at it for a moment, Crowley and Aziraphale in mute distress, and Michael in distaste.

“Are you sure you want _that_ model again, Aziraphale?” she said. “We have several newer models with some very desirable upgrades.”

“No, thank you,” he said primly. “This one will do just fine. Now if you’ll please just stand back for a moment, I’ll get myself situated…”

Michael stepped back and turned away to give him privacy.

“Ready?” Aziraphale said to Crowley, who nodded and braced himself.

Aziraphale oozed out of him in mist-form and floated over to the empty body that awaited him. As was the case with all angelic transfers, once his ethereal essence got near enough to an empty and receptive vessel, flowing into it was almost a reflex and nearly impossible to stop. Vessels were made for angels to inhabit as needed, and they served their purpose admirably.

Aziraphale let out a deep sigh and rolled his neck, then stretched out both arms and wiggled his fingers appreciatively.

“Ah, that’s much better,” he sighed happily. “Your vessel is lovely, Crowley, but it’s very crowded in there. I like my corporations just a little roomier.”

Crowley grinned in sheer relief. “Whatever you say, angel.”

“Thank you, Michael,” Aziraphale said, turning toward her. “I do appreciate it.”

“Someday perhaps I will ask you for a favor,” she said ominously, then she squared her shoulders. “For now, let’s get you out of here. Oh, and see if you can hold onto this one, all right? I don’t want to go through this whole routine again anytime soon.”

\--

An hour later, they were back in the bookshop. Aziraphale immediately went to get Frederick out of his container, allowing him to sniff him over carefully and even flick a tongue out to taste him a time or two.

Aziraphale smiled at him and ran a finger down his scales. “See, Frederick? It’s me, just as we promised you.”

Frederick eyed him suspiciously and then leaned down and bit him in the thumb.

“Ow!” the angel yelled. “What did you do that for?”

Frederick tasted the blood and ran a quick, serpentine analysis on it. Yep, definitely, it all checked out. It was him.

JUST CHECKING, he said. And then remembering that Aziraphale couldn’t hear him, he nuzzled up against the angel apologetically.

The angel, he was relieved to see, seemed to understand. He tucked the snake around his neck and headed off for the kitchen to make some cocoa. It seemed to be the best way to celebrate his return to the comforts of physical life. He took his time, carefully bringing the milk to a simmer on the stove and mixing in the finest Belgian chocolate and a dash of cinnamon, before ladling it into two generous mugs. He carried both out to the office, where Crowley was sitting on the couch looking rather exhausted.

“Thanks, angel,” Crowley said, needing a sugar rush as much as Aziraphale did. He was knackered, no way around it. The angel sat down close beside him, and Crowley slung an arm across his shoulders. They sipped in companionable silence for a few minutes.

“Oh,” Crowley said. “I never got around to asking you. How exactly _did_ you get discorporated, anyways?”

Aziraphale eyed him warily.

“Don’t worry,” Crowley assured him. “I’m far to exhausted from all the excitement to yell at you, no matter what the story is. Just tell me so I know what to add my list of ‘things never to let Aziraphale do ever again’.”

It was, he thought, quite a long list.

“In that case,” Aziraphale said. “I was down in central London running a few errands, and I was just about to cross Oxford Street when my attention was drawn away by a young woman across the street who had just lost hold of the leash on the most darling little dog. I think it was a Cavalier King Charles spaniel, you know, with the floppy ears and the glossy fur –"

Crowley groaned.

“And, of course, I couldn’t let the little thing run out into traffic and be crushed! The woman had just lost her mother and was already deeply upset, and her dog was the only real companion she had, and when he jumped across the curb and out into traffic I just had to do something.”

“So, you jumped into traffic and saved the dog yourself, instead of miracling him away? And got hit?”

Aziraphale looked affronted. “No of course not, I’m not an idiot,” he sniffed. “I miracled the dog back to her owner, and then, well, I was distracted because several people noticed the dog flying through the air in a rather suspicious way, so I was trying to simultaneously smooth over all of that, and monitor the emotions of the dog’s owner – and – well, I stepped out into traffic without looking because I was trying to get over there and deal with all of that.”

Crowley sat without moving for what seemed an incessant amount of time, just staring at him. Aziraphale found himself holding his breath. He blinked. He blinked again. And finally, just at a loss for anything else to do, he slowly brought his mug up to his lips and took a sip. Without breaking eye contact.

Finally, the demon blinked back and fractionally relaxed. “Well if that isn’t the most ridiculous and fitting Aziraphale story I’ve ever heard, I don’t know what is,” he said. “All of this for a lapdog.”

“I _am_ sorry, my love,” the angel said consolingly. “It was quite a surprise to me as well.”

Crowley made a noncommittal noise.

“I promise to look both ways before crossing the street from now on,” the angel added helpfully, scooting in a little closer.

Crowley grunted.

Aziraphale laid his head on Crowley’s shoulder and all but batted his eyes up at him. “You did say you wouldn’t be angry…”

“I said I wouldn’t _yell_ ,” Crowley pointed out, but his voice was gentle.

“Well that’s roughly the same idea, isn’t it?” the angel said brightly. And then he leaned up to place a kiss on Crowley’s cheek. “Thank you for letting me share your body. That was exceptionally kind of you.”

“Oh sure, just tell the whole world, why don’t you,” Crowley grumbled.

“I shan’t,” the angel said. “Only I get to know what a perfect, wonderful, generous –”

“Oh shaddup,” Crowley said, kissing him firmly. It was just about the only way to get the angel off his current track of mind, he knew. And, he was aware, also exactly what the angel had been going for.

Nothing to do but lean into it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And that's the end of this one! Just in time for the end of April. I hope you enjoyed the shenanigans! 
> 
> Starting tomorrow I'm going to be *attempting* to do the daily prompts for the May celebration of the original release of the book form of good omens (30 years on May 1st) and later in the month, the one year anniversary of the release of the television series. I will be starting a multichapter story for this and posting them on Tumblr, so feel free to follow in either place! YAY GOOD OMENS!!


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